


Cryptogram.

by fnowae



Series: Cryptogram [1]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Concept Fic, anyway basically everyone is dead, does that make sense, just read it, no ships, oops forgot to tag major character death hang on, this is more a prologue to an unwritten story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 13:02:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11737614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fnowae/pseuds/fnowae
Summary: Patrick probably should have known better than to buy into a game of truth or dare with a group of very drunk grown men.Joe had heard the horror stories of what supposedly happens if you try to hook up with a stranger you just met at a bar at 2 am, and had chosen to disregard them.Pete hadn't exactly missed all the "avoid dark alleyways at night" lectures as a kid, he'd just never really listened to them.Andy did absolutely nothing wrong.





	Cryptogram.

**Author's Note:**

> READ THESE NOTES!
> 
> I'm trying something different. 
> 
> Okay. I want y'all to read this. And then I want feedback, but not like I usually ask for. 
> 
> This has been sitting in my drafts for months, and I've finally decided to post it, without a plot. Yeah, other than this, this 'verse has NO plans. 
> 
> So what I want from y'all is to prompt me on it, based off this prologue type thing. Then I'll form a plot around the prompts I get. (Prompts can be sent to my Tumblr, vicesandvelociraptors.)
> 
> This is kind of experimental, but I wanted to try it. 
> 
> Okay, have fun!

**Patrick** probably should have known better than to buy into a game of truth or dare with a group of very drunk grown men. Because truth or dare is a game specifically intended for kids below thirteen and those girls in their early twenties who want to use it as an excuse to confess their love for someone. To those select groups of people, it is a blessing. To other groups (see: very drunk grown men), it is a curse. 

Sometimes almost literally. 

Patrick usually chooses truth without a fail whenever someone forces him to play this game. He knows anyone he hangs around would be more than able to fabricate a ridiculously embarrassing dare. But for some reason, be it that these are new friends that he almost somewhat trusts or that he's had maybe a little bit too much to drink at this party, he chooses dare. 

"Alright," pipes up some guy Patrick didn't really catch the name of, though he's pretty sure it starts with a J (Jaden? Jacob?), "I dare you to try and sell your soul to the devil."

Everyone at the party laughs at this dare, especially the darer (Jason? Jeff?) himself, because the joke is it's not possible. Patrick is actually momentarily thankful for this ridiculous dare, because it means he won't actually have to do anything. So they'll set up some kind of fake ritual for the laughs, ha ha, and it predictably won't do anything and it will be the next person's turn. 

Some other party guest who Patrick is actually fairly sure of the name of (he thinks it's Clyde, but it could be Cliff) gets all in on it, cheerfully googling "how to sell your soul to the devil" as everyone else laughs. They go for a search result that actually seems to be at least partially serious and try to recreate the instructions as best as possible, which ends with Patrick having to light a final candle to "complete the summoning". 

Is there a word for when you expect something to be anti-climatic, but instead it's actually the opposite? Because Patrick really needs that word right now. 

He had lit the candle like he was supposed to, but what he wasn't expecting was for the entire room to appear to be engulfed in flames as everything but him and the one candle falls away.

He's left floating in some kind of void, utterly terrified. He's heard the phrase "scared sober" before, but he doesn't think he's truly experienced that until now. 

Suddenly a booming voice overtakes the room - well, it's not really a room anymore, but whatever - and proclaims, "What is your business?"

"Uh," Patrick says, unsure how to respond to what is most likely the voice of the actual fucking devil.

The voice sighs exasperatedly. "You're just another one who did this on a bet or something, aren't you?"

"Yes...?" Patrick looks around, trying to locate the source of the voice, but he can't see anything but flames and the voice itself seems to come from everywhere at once. 

"Of course you are." The disembodied voice sounds rather frustrated. "Well, as much as I'd like to be reasonable and let you off the hook here, I can't. You started this, so you have to finish it. I'm gonna need your soul."

"Uh," Patrick chokes out weakly, fear evident even in just the one syllable. 

"Listen, kid, if it's any comfort to you, you can have literally anything in return," the voice continues, some mix of sympathetic and bored, but mostly bored. "You're just going to have to give me your soul and become one of my demons for all eternity. You know, casual stuff."

"No thanks," Patrick squeaks out. He wraps his arms around himself as if the gesture could possibly protect him. 

"Anything. Seriously." Now the voice is definitely just bored. "I don't have all day. You shouldn't have pulled this if you weren't ready for the repercussions."

"Can I..." Patrick starts, then stops out of fear before continuing. "Can I choose to just never see you again? Like, I'll agree to your terms if you never bother me ever again?"

"You know that isn't going to save your soul or anything, right?" The voice sounds skeptical now. 

"Yeah. Just please leave me alone." Patrick is almost begging at this point, but he really doesn't know what else to do. This seems like the most logical choice in such an inherently illogical situation. 

"I don't see why not." Even though there's no physical form to go with the voice, Patrick can almost hear a shrug in it. Then the voice continues, "So that's really what you want?"

"Yes," Patrick says, not with certainty, though he's fairly certain at this point. 

"Alright, kid."

And that's when Patrick is hit by a red hot pain in his chest that feels like the flames around him have leapt onto him and are currently burning him out from the inside. 

Or something like that. 

The last thought he has before everything goes black is that he is never playing truth or dare again. 

///

Patrick pushes his sunglasses further up his nose. He knows it's ridiculous how attentive he is to their position, but he also knows that if they slip too far down his nose, anyone looking will be able to see his glowing red eyes. And that goes strictly against his current life plan that he has eloquently titled Don't Fucking Let People Know You're A Fucking Demon. 

This life plan specifically applies now, because he's pretty sure that at this stage this whole "getting the band back together" concept is fragile enough that his whole demon thing would probably cause everything to fall apart again. So, sitting here at a table in a coffee shop with his friends, he is being very careful to make sure his eyes remain covered at all times. 

He recognizes that his adamant wearing of sunglasses probably comes off as suspicious, seeing as it's nighttime, but sunglasses are his only option. He'd tried colored contacts once, and they didn't do shit to cover up his eyes. Honestly, fuck his weird demonic features he doesn't even fully understand yet. 

In his defense, he had tried to set the meeting for daytime, but Joe had given some spiel about how he was super busy all day, but he could totally meet that night. So, since it had worked for everyone, they met that night. 

No one is saying anything right now, because having just completed the standard "Hi, how are you?" conversation pattern, they've hit a dead end. Everyone is just quietly sipping their coffee (except Pete, who hadn't gotten any) and waiting for someone else to start a conversation. 

Finally, Joe speaks up and breaks the cycle. 

"Anything interesting happen since we last talked?"

///

**Joe** had heard the horror stories of what supposedly happens if you try to hook up with a stranger you just met at a bar at 2 am, and had chosen to disregard them. 

He'd met her at one of those creepy bars that is open 24/7 and only contains the most desperate of customers - so Joe fit right in. She said her name was Sheila, she was in her late twenties, and she was a single mom whose husband had cheated on her. Joe knows a sob story when he sees one, but he let himself feel bad for her anyway. 

After a considerable amount of drinks, Sheila leans across the table, and, cocking her head in the way most people do when they're either confused or just badly want something (take a guess which one Sheila is embodying perfectly), asks, "Want to go out back?"

Joe, being the fucking idiot he sometimes is, agrees without second thoughts. After all, he tells himself, he's got a thing for blondes. Well, mostly he's got a thing for blonde guys. But he likes girls too, so why not give it a try? 

Sheila leads him out back of the bar, which should be a red flag, but Joe can't be bothered to care. They're now in a dirty alleyway, surrounded by dumpsters and discarded trash on all sides. Joe has a fleeting thought that this feels like somewhere movie characters die. 

Sheila gives little warning before she pulls him close and starts kissing him. She's not a very good kisser, if Joe's being honest here, but it'll do. She pulls him a little closer, and starts kissing down his jaw, leaving his lips. This jumps out to Joe as a bit weird for someone he just met. It feels dangerously cliche, and it almost reminds him of-

He can't even finish the thought before he realizes that there's a painful stabbing sensation in his neck, and of fucking - _course_ this is the movie cliche he's going to end up as. It's just his luck. 

The thought "if I had to get bit by a vampire at least it was a fairly attractive one" passes dimly through his mind as the world fades around him and he passes out onto the cold gravel of the alley. 

///

Joe taps nervously on the side of his coffee cup. He stares at everyone else expectantly, waiting for an answer to his question. 

"Nothing much," Andy finally answers with a shrug. He's been scrutinizing the rest of them this entire time, and after he says this he goes right back to doing it again. 

"Same here. You?" Pete asks, raising an eyebrow at Joe. 

"Nothing really," Joe lies. But hey, it's a lot easier than the truth. 

He knows, logically, he can't lie about it forever. But he'd managed to convince them to move this meeting to nighttime easily enough, and besides, he isn't the only one who's acting sort of weird. Patrick's wearing sunglasses indoors at night, and Pete didn't even order coffee, which is possibly the most un-Pete-like thing in the history of things. But hey, it's been a while. People change. He hopes this is what everyone else makes of his weird behavior, too. 

"I guess nothing interesting happens to any of us when we aren't all together, huh?" Patrick jokes, giving them all a small smile. 

Joe laughs and nods, and Andy smiles. 

"Yeah," Pete agrees, staring down at the surface of the table. "Nothing interesting at all."

///

**Pete** hadn't exactly missed all the "avoid dark alleyways at night" lectures as a kid, he'd just never really listened to them. And why should he? Nothing really happens in dark alleys. That's just bullshit that the movies make up to scare kids into "safety". Or at least, he'd always thought that. 

It's possible he had been wrong. 

Pete often uses alleys as a shortcut to get places because they have less people and make walking home faster. He's grown accustomed to shady alleyways through this, and they don't scare him like they used to. He used to keep an eye out for people nearby, secretly afraid that someone would jump out and try to mug him or something, but he's long since stopped, seeing as nothing has ever happened. 

Until now. 

Now, because Pete is walking through a dark alley at night without paying attention to his surroundings, he doesn't notice he's being followed until there's a hand clapped over his mouth and a knife pressed against his throat. 

"Don't make any sudden moves," someone says, presumably whoever has suddenly assaulted him. "I just want your money."

Pete is, most times, a headstrong dumbass who strongly believes he can protect himself from anything. Pete makes a sudden move. 

He instantly regrets it, but by then the knife is slicing his throat open, and it's far too late. 

///

Pete looks up, hoping someone else will start up conversation again. He nervously tugs at the scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. If you were to look under it, you would see a forever unhealed cut running along his neck. Which, obviously, is not something anyone is supposed to be seeing. Hence the scarf. 

"Have we really all just had completely boring lives this entire time?" Patrick asks, looking around at everyone in amazement, like he's surprised that's even possible. 

"I was on a plane that almost crashed," Joe offers with a shrug. "But it didn't."

"Would you rather it did?" Andy asks, looking amused. 

Joe shrugs. "Certainly would've been more interesting."

Awkward silence falls again. Pete wishes he could have a coffee to sip at like everyone else is, but he lost his ability to eat and drink when he lost his life. Which, while being rather unfortunate, he kind of deserved. The eating and drinking part. He doesn't actually think he deserved to die, no matter how much of an idiot he had been that night. 

"Funny how we all had such a boring time," Patrick comments. Pete would say he sounds nervous, but he isn't sure why Patrick would even be nervous at all. 

"Yeah," Andy agrees. "Funny."

///

**Andy** did absolutely nothing wrong. 

He legitimately lived a completely normal and boring life while the band was split, with no mysterious occurrences or unexplained happenings. Everything over the past couple years had gone...not normally, per se, but smoothly. Not a single hitch he couldn't deal with. 

And he was fairly sure it was the same for everyone else, too. 

///

Andy may have been wrong about that last bit. 

He knows exactly what's going on. With everyone. They're not exactly good at secrets. He'd caught Patrick's glasses slipping down long enough to glimpse his strikingly red eyes for a moment before Patrick had quickly pushed the glasses up again. When Joe was laughing at one point, he'd flashed a grin with teeth that were notably inhuman. Pete had blatantly just passed a hand through the table at one point. 

And yet no one else seems to be noticing anything weird with any of the others. Andy believes this to be because they're all too busy trying to keep their own secrets to figure out anyone else's. But Andy doesn't have any strange or unusual secret to keep. His friends' weirdness is plain as day to him. 

He considers that he should get them all to confess, because all this covering up can't possibly end well. But on the other hand, he sort of wants to know how long they'd be able to hide all of this. 

He decides that, just for a little, he won't say anything. 

After all, it's not like his idiot friends - and he's using that term affectionately, by the way - are going to be able to lie about any of this for very long. 

Probably.

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't already, read the beginning notes. Thanks.


End file.
